


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Immediate Consequences

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Blackmail, Cock Rings, Dacryphilia, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Drinking, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), Fantastic Racism, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Kordin likes the occasional bottle of skooma, Kordin likes to talk, M/M, Mention of Necrophilia, Morag Tong, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poisoning, Punishment, Rape, Recreational Drug Use, Reminiscing, Sexual Fantasy, Tears, Thieves Guild, brief fantasies of murder and necrophilia and cannibalism, forced pleasure, lots of talking, prior attempted murder, repeated anal rape, some somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn has his way with a very special late-night visitor.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan
Comments: 42
Kudos: 38
Collections: Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn and Ravyn Imyan





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Immediate Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please read the tags, and please post any thoughts in the comments. I like hearing from readers. I hope you enjoy this one! 
> 
> Previous Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan stories are in this collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Ravyn_Imyan.
> 
> Thanks to J for their suggestions for how Imyan should suffer for trying to assassinate his Guildmaster. Still open to ideas for the next phase of his punishment.

Kordin reluctantly left the captive Ravyn Imyan on the bed and stepped over to check the window, partially opening the drapes and shutters so that the cool metallic moonbeams blended with the yellow glow of the candles to play flatteringly over Imyan’s downcast grey face. Not that he needed anything to render him more appealing, but the unusual light made the failed assassin look like a blessing directly from some pleased Daedra, or the Void itself.

“The night is still young, at least for men like us. Isn’t that fortunate?”

He laughed a bit and moved back to the bed, where the Dunmer lay still, with his legs spread and lifted and bound to his shackled arms, the strained muscles showing clearly in the layered dimness, the strange mixed light. His red eyes were half-closed, but shone with something deep, seemingly unique to him. His hair was falling in lank black clumps around his gorgeously-sculpted face. His reddened hole still leaked come and--to Kordin’s great pleasure—a trace of blood. His prick rested mostly soft in his dark pubic hair.

Kordin caressed the smooth arches of each of Imyan’s long graceful feet, kissed the left one wetly.

“I’d like to make you my guest, at least till morning. Just us two.” He smiled softly, stroked down Imyan’s chest and abdomen, feeling the fast beat of his heart and the mysterious movement of the organs under his toned belly. “Would you like that, pretty killer?”

Imyan grimaced at the Listener’s touch, gentle though it was.

“By Sithis, I have so many things I wanna try on you,” Kordin said, sucking at his throat, then the erotically sharp point of his ear. He kissed the unwilling lips, licked the drying blood from where he’d slapped him earlier. “You know exactly what I like, don’t you? A gorgeous dark thing, sliding into my bed at night--what more could I ask?”

He kissed down his chest to his crotch, teased his soft cock with his tongue, and began to lick the red-streaked come from the ex-Morag Tong agent’s asshole, suckling at the stretched pucker firmly, making the mer squirm. He bit his left ass-cheek hard, leaving deep teeth-marks in the muscled flesh. He could feel him tighten up at the pain.

Kordin was almost fully hard again. He smiled up at Imyan, whose eyes were squeezed shut.

“Oh, c’mon, you know how much I love those brilliant eyes of yours. Look at me, beautiful.”

The ex-assassin opened his slanted eyes and met Kordin’s gaze with trepidation. 

“What are you going to do?” he asked, flatly.

“Oh, you might like this one. I know at least one other grey-skin beauty who does.”

Imyan’s eyes went a little wider, his sharp brows arched higher than usual, and his lush mouth twisted. He watched the Nord get off the bed and cross the room to his dresser. Kordin found a satchel and fished out a small length of leather.

He returned to the bed, grinning, and reached for the Dunmer’s flaccid cock and played with it for a moment, enjoying the silky feel. He cupped his balls as well, tugging teasingly. Then he lifted the luscious sack and looped the leather around it and the soft prick, tying it carefully. After he was satisfied with his work, he began to tenderly fondle the shaft, looking directly into Imyan’s apprehensive eyes.

“This’ll keep your sweet prick hard for as long as I want it to be,” he said, continuing to stroke. “Don’t worry, it can’t hurt you you, I have healing potions for that, and I’d never want to damage your beauty permanently. Unless, of course…” He paused, his mind in reverie, “Oh, but I really think death would only enhance your charms. A nice clean cut on that lovely neck, or maybe a split up that firm middle. The gore would match your eyes perfectly. I’d leave them open while I fucked you, you know. Dead grey-skins’ eyes are just as pretty as live ones’. I know that for a fact.”

Imyan looked past him, as he so often seemed to.

Kordin stopped for only a few seconds to lick his palm liberally, tasting the ex-Morag Tong agent’s salty sweat and the traces of his semen from earlier. He went back to jerking Imyan, feeling him getting harder. When Imyan’s eyes closed again in shame and his cheeks grew pink, he smacked his inner thigh and smirked.

“Eyes open, now.”

Imyan couldn’t stop the responses of his body, couldn’t help arching into Kordin’s experienced hand. His cock, furthermore, was firmly restrained below his sack by the small strap of leather. Kordin knew, from trying it on Teldryn Sero’s considerable member, that it would have him aching and erect for as long as he wanted to leave him that way. Sero had cried copiously when he’d used it on him, those always-entrancing red Dunmer eyes leaking endlessly as he’d pleaded for release—but, of course, the mercenary had gratefully accepted the abuse. Imyan would never be so easy, and, in a way, the Listener cherished him for it.

Soon Imyan was hard as ebony, flinching minutely every time the Nord brushed his cock-head, making his tormentor smile broadly.

“If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I’d think you meant to give me a great gift. By all the gods, look at you. So hard, all blushing and helpless. I think you’re ripe to be used again.”

Imyan remained silent, his glittering eyes reflecting candles and moonlight.

Kordin poked a finger inside him.

“It’s a damn good thing you’re still so slick in here,” he said, “I don’t wanna waste time oiling you up. I want you right now. I might even say I need you.”

Indeed, he did feel he needed him, his cock already wet at the tip, just from touching him, so he penetrated him in one rude motion, each of his hands gripping a sweetly firm thigh. Imyan grunted deeply at the new invasion of his battered innards, and made the mistake of letting his eyes drop closed, which earned him a strong pinch on his right thigh and a growled order to look at his tormentor. Kordin looked at his eyes and decided that he’d keep those blood-red fleshly jewels in a jar in the Sanctuary, if he ever did decide to end his “enemy’s” torture for good. Before he had a chance to rot, he’d devour his well-formed grey flesh--carefully, ritually--all delectable and raw—and then make his bones into jewelry, sew his hair and into a satchel with sweet herbs, a jeweled silver clasp. Perhaps with a tasteful spiderweb motif. 

The Listener liked his trophies. 

This line of thought had him reeling as he plowed into the mer. Imyan was a little less tight than the last time, wet inside with oil and Kordin’s previous issue. He felt silken, and there was no need to hold back. Kordin kissed him roughly, biting and sucking his split lips, tasting his tantalizing blood. As he pressed down against him, he could feel his captive’s bound prick, the delicate skin so hot. Every part of him seemed too delicious to bear, especially tonight. He bit his neck and heard a gratifying cry, and came, abruptly and powerfully.

“Oh, gods,” he said into the fast pulse of Imyan’s throat.

He pulled out and sat back to examine his ashen-skinned prize. The Listener was sated for the moment. Imyan, for his part, looked dazed from pain, his face shiny with sweat, his eyes obediently open, but damp, leaking a little. Kordin kissed him gently all over his face, then licked the tears away, every salty drop.

“Was that good for you, too, hmm?” he asked, rubbing his face into the Dunmer’s damp hair, relishing his intoxicating scent. He kissed his mouth again, softly this time. “Tell me, my dearest, what were you going to do with me when you decided to break in tonight?”

“I already told you,” gasped the mer, “I just wanted it to--to end.”

“Would you have licked the blood from my neck?” asked Kordin, his voice a bit flirtatious, his hand circling Imyan’s engorged prick. “After you cut me open?”

“Do I look like a—some kind of--vampire?” Imyan sounded disgusted, even in his current predicament, which Kordin, begrudgingly, had to respect.

“I’m sure they’d love to have you.” The Nord kissed him again, more forcefully. “But, no, you look like a beautiful grey-skin murderer from some weird old broken-down cult.”

Imyan gave him a laden look. Kordin’s strange sense of respect grew. After all, the Brotherhood, too, was old, admittedly weird (especially Cicero, damn that man) and would have probably withered into the history books if not for Kordin’s efforts. He sighed.

“And you look like a whore, too, at least right now, spread open like you are, with your delicious cock so hard it’s getting purple.” He gave him a stroke to emphasize his words. “Would you have kissed me? Played with my corpse?”

Imyan pressed his mouth shut.

“Ever done that? Or maybe some of your old Guildmates did? You said yourself I wouldn’t be the first.” He rubbed the hard shaft, the wet head. “I bet if your target was Brynjolf, you’d be all over him.”

“Don’t talk about him,” snapped Imyan, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

He got a painful squeeze to his prick for that, resulting in an undignified shriek.

“I bet you’d screw his lovely ginger carcass into the ground.” Kordin smiled. “I certainly would.”

Imyan wisely chose silence this time. Kordin bent and kissed his hard cock.

“I need to get a drink. I’m going to leave you here for a moment. But, don’t worry, you won’t be unfulfilled.” 

He crossed to his dresser again and selected one of the glass replica cocks he had had made for use on Sero. This was a large one, about the same girth as the Nord’s own prick, though longer, and curved gently for stimulation. He hoped to hit the man’s sweet spot.

“This is gonna stay in you while I’m busy. Keep you nice and open for me.”

Looking at Imyan’s glistening, half-lidded eyes, he worked the dildo into him, pushing steadily but not as roughly as the mer deserved. A little of the Nord’s come, mixed with oil, oozed from the Dunmer’s rim as the glass entered him. His teeth ground audibly, then he cried out with a near-whine as it hit that special place inside him. Kordin slapped the base of the dildo, provoking another cry.

“Don’t move, love. Enjoy yourself.”

He patted Imyan’s trapped prick, kissed his succulent lips, and left the room.

After a quarter hour or so, Kordin returned, his thirst satisfied, his body warm with mead and ready for more fun with his captive. Imyan was groaning and squirming, and the dildo had partially emerged from his hole. Kordin unceremoniously smacked it back in, to a pained yowl. Then he pinched the grey-skin’s ass-cheek, using his blunt thick nails.

“I told you to keep that in there.”

“I—“ Imyan’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “It fucking hurts.”

“It’s supposed to, handsome. You earned it.”

He smiled at the mer’s expression—beautiful agony, his face straining, long body lurching.

“Please.”

“Please what, Imyan?”

“Please take it out.”

“Hmm, but what should I put in its place?”

“Just—please, Guildmaster.”

“Alright. But it will be replaced.”

He smacked the end of the glass again. Imyan yelped.

“Please! Whatever you want!”

“Oh, whatever I want, handsome?”

He pulled the glass tube out, then pushed it back in, hard. Imyan’s slanted eyes closed, opened, shone with pretty tears. Kordin licked them slowly, thirstily. He kissed him.

“Yes,” gasped the ex-assassin, his lips looking soft and yielding, open, “whatever you want. Do anything else.”

“Thanks for your permission,” sneered the Listener, yanking the toy from Imyan’s ass with a fleshy abrupt sound and a sudden splat of oil, old come, and red-brown fluid. “You’re leaking everywhere. Lucky thing I don’t make you clean it with your tongue, isn’t it, sweet love?”

Imyan nodded, his eyes bleak. He was moaning.

“I’ve gotta have you again,” whispered Kordin, as he jerked himself, “Damn you. You make me feel like I’m sixteen and buying my first Grey Quarter man. Divines, I remember him. Little older than you, real good-looking. Day laborer, with long thick red hair, lean body--and those eyes. Had three generations under his roof, and didn’t want his kin to have to satisfy disgusting Nords like me--” here, he laughed, “--so he sold himself, while the wife took in sewing. Said the wife was sickly. He wanted to pay his daughter’s way into Winterhold, help raise the son’s kid. Noble of him, don’t you think?” Kordin kissed Imyan’s damp lips, “I gave that noble ashy beauty more business than he could handle, I assure you. Used to love watching him limp home when I was done fucking him in some alley.”

He ran his hand up Imyan’s forcibly-inflated cock. The elf squirmed, muttered. Kordin kissed his tip, licked it languidly, stroked it with a saliva-covered palm. He kissed Imyan’s mouth, feeling the vibration of his reluctant moans.

“I want you face-down this time, with that tasty ass up. I can’t trust you to be a good boy while I rearrange you, so we’ll need some help.”

Kordin left the bed again and got a vial of the short-acting paralysis poison he’d used earlier. He put back his unenchanted Daedric dagger and chose a shock-enchanted ebony one. He wanted to see Imyan’s lovely body jump.

He smeared his poison on the ebony and approached his prey again. He stuck him in the smooth arch of his long left foot, enjoying the feel of the fine bones in his hand. Imyan seized up, yelled, and then went limp. A thread of drool came from his slack lips.

“Mmm, so lush,” said Kordin, licking away the thread, kissing the soft mouth. “Wish I could keep you like this.”

He really needed to make more of his long-lasting drug.

He opened Imyan’s shackles, turned him, chained his wrists again. He bent his knees under him and used leather straps to tether the knees to the arm shackles. Imyan was now forced to kneel with his arms up and head down, ass spread. Lucky for him Kordin slept on a pile of pillows.

The Nord wasted no time, prodding into him again with his fingers, using a bit of oil. Imyan’s body was still limp, but warm inside. With his other hand, Kordin felt him up, stroked his sharp-boned face. Was this what he’d be like if Kordin finally did what the Listener ought to do? Was this what he’d be like just after his blood stopped? 

He was tempted. And the dagger right there, and Imyan’s vulnerable beating throat under his needy caressing hand.

Not now.

For now, he’d penetrate him only with fingers and prick.

Imyan began to move again, to wriggle against his bonds, straining in his new position. He murmured in a low voice.

Kordin held his hip and used the other hand to work his prick easily into the stretched hole—already messy with come and oil. 

“Want you so bad,” he breathed, fucking into the sloppy asshole, pulling at Imyan’s loose hair, kissing the sweaty back of his neck. “You’re just so gods-damned--” He slammed into him, pulled out, slammed in again. “Such a perfect little vicious thing.”

He pumped with a quick rhythm into the moistened dark hole, holding Imyan’s hair as he bucked against his sweet round ass. He reached under the ex-assassin and teased his tied prick, making him groan as though under torture.

“Oh, maybe I shoulda ridden you. Really used this delicious hard flesh.” He laughed, squeezed Imyan’s cock-head and licked his ear. “Used you for as long as I wanted. You liked when the ginger rode you. I bet you’d love having that hot grey prick treated like a toy. I’d keep you on edge, wouldn’t let you come till I was well-satisfied.”

He jerked the mer as he spoke, loving the heat of the helplessly hard prick. He fucked him harshly, poking deep inside and sliding out and going deep again. Imyan grunted in pain and Kordin kissed him roughly.

“You make me so hot,” he whispered, twining his hand in the man’s hair, gripping his hip to pull his ass onto his cock. “Just so hungry.”

He bit into his neck hard and came. He hadn’t expected to do so nearly that soon—but such was his eteranal trouble with Dunmer men. They got him so fucking worked up, with those damn blood-colored eyes, and that trim ashen flesh, those sharp uncompromising features. Imyan, especially, made him feel unhinged, salacious, on dangerous edge. As he came, all he could think of was a quick sure slice across that warm grey throat. 

He sighed against the man’s bowed back.

“So good for me, you’re so good, you delicious creature.” 

He kissed a line down his backbone. Imyan shuddered.

No one else, except the sneaky Windhelm beauties, had dared defy him, not in a long while. Imyan might have earned every bit of punishment he was getting, but Kordin had meant it when he had praised him earlier. He felt lucky to have such a man under his power, to have him in abject pain, reduced to begging.

He gave him a long biting kiss on the small of his back, startling him.

“Pretty, pretty thing,” he said, lapping with his eager tongue at the place where he’d bitten. “I think I’ll get myself a little something so I can keep at you.”

He placed a kiss on Imyan’s leaking asshole, then he went to get a bottle of bracing skooma, felt a sudden and wonderful surge of renewed vitality as he downed the first half, sitting in his kitchen. He rarely smoked it, but sometimes drank the stuff when the caravans or Ysolda had it. It was a bit too sweet, but it made him feel like he could conquer Tamriel and fuck every handsome man on the continent, mer and human alike.

He finished the bottle, taking his time, then went back to his “guest”. The man was groaning and struggling.

Kordin slapped his come-wet ass.

“Stop it, grey-skin.” 

He climbed on the bed and began fucking him again almost immediately, rutting into him with his drugged energy. The coupling was a heady blur of skooma buzz, lust, warmth and wetness. This time, when he felt ready to orgasm, he pulled out of the cream-filled hole and shot white streaks across Imyan’s upper back, neck, and into his hair. The semen shone against his dusky skin and messy dark hair. 

“You look so good like that, covered in seed. Sithis. I should sell you. You’d make me enough for a new alchemy lab in one night. You know how many men’d want to rail a tough piece of gorgeous mer like you?”

Imyan tried to bury his head in the pillows. Kordin laughed and kissed his seed-damp, blushing neck.

“Don’t try to deny it. You’re a beautiful whore.”

He untied the leather around the Dunmer’s cock, jerked him carefully, and felt him come, strong pulses and hot semen, all over his hand. As the ex-assassin finally climaxed, he gave a creaky, hopeless cry. 

Kordn licked the seed from his fingers and praised the rich salty taste, smiling at the mer’s heaving back.

He took a glace at the window.

“Dawn’s a few hours away, beautiful. Your little visit isn’t over yet.”


End file.
